This wasn’t careful. It wasn’t clean.
It was rough and messy and real.
And I knew—if this was the last time I ever got to touch her like this…
I’d never forget the way it felt to fall apart with her.
Chapter 25
Daphne
I slammed the door behind us, hard enough to rattle the frame.
The buzz of the fundraiser crowd faded as I stormed into the empty lounge, needing air that wasn’t thick with curated charm and fake smiles. Kieren’s footsteps followed, steady and slow. Of course he followed. He always did. Like he couldn’t help himself.
I turned, arms crossed, rage simmering just under my skin. “What do you want from me, Kieren?”
He blinked, thrown for just a second. Good. Let him feel off-balance. Let him feel even half the chaos he caused me.
When he didn’t answer, something inside me snapped.
“You keep doing this—showing up like you’re some sort of constant when all you’ve ever been is the exception. I had a plan. I had rules. And then you walk in with that smile, and that charm, and those stupid eyes—” I cut myself off, chest rising and falling.
Still, he said nothing. His jaw ticked, like he was biting back words. That made me angrier.
“Say something,” I hissed.
His voice, when it finally came, was quiet. “You’re the one who ran, Daphne.”
I flinched.
“I didn’t ask for a fake relationship,” he went on. “I didn’t ask for loopholes or limits or contracts. I said yes because it meant I got to spend time with you. And somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake for me.” My throat tightened. “Maybe it never was.”
God, why did his words always hit where it hurt?
I looked away, jaw clenched. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to stand there and say all the right things like I’m the one screwing it up.”
“Aren’t you?” he asked, gentle but firm. “You’re always the one with a reason to leave. A flight to catch. A boundary to draw.”
“I have a career,” I snapped. “And a life I built without anyone else’s help.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I admire the hell out of that. But are you really living it? Or are you just trying not to feel anything real because it might hurt?”
I shook my head, vision blurring. I hated this. Hated that he saw through me. Hated that I wanted him, anyway.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered.
He stepped closer. “Neither do I. But I want to try.”
I backed up instinctively, but the wall was there, solid against my spine. He didn’t touch me. Just stood close enough that I could smell his cologne and the faint salt of sweat from earlier.
“This was supposed to be a business arrangement,” I said, voice shaking. “It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.”
He smiled, but there was no smugness in it. Just something sad. “Then maybe it’s time we stop pretending it’s still just business.”
"Stop," I whispered.
Begged.
